Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife
I woke up with a splitting headache in a trashed penthouse, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and discarded Hermes boxes.
A quick glance at the morning newspaper confirmed my worst nightmare: I had transmigrated into the novel 'The CEO's Tender Vow'. Worse, I was the villain's vain, useless wife, right at the exact moment his tech empire completely collapsed.
The original owner of this body had just attempted suicide because her husband went bankrupt. When my cold, exhausted husband, Alek Holden, walked through the door, he threw a divorce agreement and a bank card with a pitifully low balance onto the kitchen counter. He coldly warned me that his creditors would be at the door any minute. Meanwhile, my toxic ex-boyfriend was already waiting downstairs, publicly mocking Alek's downfall and offering to make me his mistress. In the original plot, taking that money and running with the ex led to a miserable, tragic death.
I stared at the thick stack of divorce papers. I knew Alek was the ruthless villain who would eventually claw his way back to power and brutally destroy everyone who abandoned him. There was no way I was going to play the role of the shallow, doomed ex-wife and wait to be crushed.
I looked Alek right in the eyes, grabbed the agreement, and ripped it right down the middle until it was nothing but useless shreds.
"The marriage vows said for richer or for poorer. I am staying to help you rebuild."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 1
Emma woke up with a sharp pain splitting her skull. The hangover tore through her nerves like broken glass. She clutched her forehead and fell back against the pillows. Her stomach heaved.
Unfamiliar memories flooded her brain. The information overload triggered a violent wave of nausea. She gripped the silk bedsheets until her knuckles turned white. Her chest heaved as she tried to pull oxygen into her burning lungs.
She forced her eyes open and looked around the room. Orange Hermes boxes and empty liquor bottles littered the floor. The visual shock made her suck in a cold breath. The sheer waste of money made her stomach drop.
She pushed the heavy duvet off and tried to get out of bed. Her foot caught on a discarded high heel. She tripped and crashed onto the carpet. The hard impact against her knees sent a very real jolt of pain up her legs.
She crawled toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The face staring back at her was covered in smeared, heavy makeup, but the underlying features were stunning. She scrambled backward, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was not her face.
Her gaze darted to the nightstand. A copy of the New York Times lay there. The bold headline read that the Holden technology empire had collapsed. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.
She snatched the newspaper and checked the date. The cold reality washed over her skin. She had transmigrated. The newspaper headline confirmed it: she was in the novel 'The CEO's Tender Vow', right at the point where the villain, Alek Holden, lost everything.
Rationality snapped back into place. The original owner of this body had thrown a tantrum and attempted suicide because the male lead went bankrupt. Emma knew she had to change her strategy immediately if she wanted to survive.
She scrambled to her feet and rushed into the bathroom. She turned on the cold water faucet and splashed her face. The freezing water shocked her system. A violent shiver ran down her spine.
She scrubbed hard, washing away the ruined makeup. She stared at the clean, pale face in the mirror. Her breathing slowed. She made a silent vow to stay alive.
She walked out of the bathroom and faced the disaster zone. She forced down the bile rising in her throat and started cleaning.
She picked up the designer clothes scattered on the floor. The price tags were still attached. Her mind raced, calculating how much cash these fabrics could bring in.
She tossed an empty wine bottle into a trash bag. The glass clinked loudly against another bottle. The sharp noise grated on her tense nerves.
She pushed open the bedroom door and walked into the living room. It looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. Sofa cushions were thrown everywhere.
She dragged the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and tried to turn it on. She pressed the wrong button on the unfamiliar model. The machine let out a piercing alarm.
She panicked and yanked the plug from the wall socket. Frustration burned in her chest. She took a deep breath, plugged it back in, and tried again.
Two hours later, the living room was somewhat presentable. She collapsed onto the sofa. Her lungs burned, and sweat dripped down her neck.
Her stomach let out a loud rumble. The hunger pangs were sharp. She pushed herself off the sofa and walked into the kitchen to find food.
She pulled open the double doors of the massive refrigerator. It was completely empty except for bottled water and a jar of expired caviar. She let out a heavy sigh and closed the doors.
The electronic lock on the front door beeped. Heavy footsteps broke the dead silence of the penthouse. Emma's entire body went rigid.
She peeked around the kitchen island. A tall man walked through the door. His face was cold and exhausted. The sheer physical presence of him made her breath catch in her throat.
Alek Holden took off his heavy winter coat. Cold air clung to him. He looked up and saw the clean living room. A flash of extreme shock crossed his dark eyes.
His sharp gaze locked onto Emma. She was standing there in loungewear with no makeup. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening in suspicion.
The oppressive weight of his stare made the hairs on her arms stand up. She forced her facial muscles to move and managed a stiff smile.
Alek ignored her smile. He walked straight to his briefcase and pulled out a thick document. His movements were rigid.
He slammed the document onto the marble kitchen island. The heavy thud echoed in the large room. The air between them turned to ice.
He slid a fountain pen across the marble toward her. "Sign it," he ordered. His voice was hoarse and completely devoid of emotion.
Emma looked down. It was a divorce agreement. Sitting right next to it was a bank card with a pitifully low balance.
She looked up and met Alek's freezing gaze. She did not reach for the pen. Instead, she placed her hands behind her back and rubbed her wrist.
Alek stared at her, his patience wearing thin. She shook her head firmly.
"I am not signing that."
You may also like
7.2
After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.
8.9
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.
7.5
I was tied to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the heavy stench of gasoline suffocating me.
Ten steps away, a masked kidnapper slammed a loaded Glock onto a metal barrel and forced my husband, Alvie, to make a sick choice.
"The wife or the mistress. You only get to walk out of here with one."
Alvie didn't even blink.
He walked straight toward the dark corner where his mistress, Gail, was crying. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her, and guided her toward the exit.
He never looked back. He didn't cast a single glance over his shoulder. To him, I was already a corpse, just trash left on the pavement.
The kidnapper laughed and tossed a lighter onto the soaked concrete floor.
A wall of ghostly blue fire erupted instantly, swallowing me whole. The absolute agony of my skin blistering and melting shattered my sanity.
In my last moments, consumed by the inferno, I couldn't understand how the man I had loved and served so submissively could leave me to burn alive. My heartbreak quickly morphed into a hatred far deeper than the flames.
Then, I violently jerked awake.
I shot up from the bed, gasping for cold air, my hands frantically checking my perfectly smooth, unburned skin.
I looked at the desk clock. I had returned to exactly four years ago, the morning of the annual Gallagher family gathering.
The fragile, naive wife died in that warehouse. This time, I am going to destroy them both.
7.4
Alaya woke up in the sterile hospital room to a devastating reality: her six-month-old baby was gone, lost in a horrific car crash.
But as the memories crashed into her, she realized she had been reborn. She was back three years before her ultimate death, back to the moment she remembered lying bleeding on the asphalt while her husband, Hardy, shielded his mistress from the freezing rain.
When Hardy finally showed up at the ward, he coldly dismissed the crash as a mere accident and immediately left to comfort his young lover. To make matters worse, Alaya secretly checked her medical files and found a terrifying detail: someone had intentionally slipped beta-blockers into her system, a lethal drug for her transplanted heart. And Hardy didn't care about her dead baby or her irreversible infertility. He only coldly confirmed with the doctor that her heart was still viable.
A horrifying suspicion made Alaya's blood run cold. Why was her husband so obsessed with protecting her transplanted heart while treating her like garbage? And why was his perfectly healthy mistress secretly racking up massive bills at an advanced cardiac hospital?
Realizing she was nothing but a vessel in a twisted, deadly game, Alaya didn't shed another tear.
She packed her belongings, left her flawless diamond wedding ring on the cold marble table, and vanished from their penthouse.
When Hardy finally tracked her down, she threw a thick stack of documents onto the table.
"Sign the divorce papers," she said, her eyes completely dead.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
7.6
🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞
Aria Bennett is the perfect daughter, a decoration in her father's massive business empire. But for one night, she decides to break every rule. At a secret underground club, she meets Adrian, a man who knows exactly how to please her and awaken desires she never knew she had. They promise each other nothing but one night of pleasure and desire.
But when Aria wakes up to find him gone, leaving only a cold note behind, she thinks the fantasy is over. That is, until she walks downstairs the next morning to see the same man standing in her driveway.
Now, the man who knows her darkest secrets is her father's new driver. Forced to face him every day while pretending they are strangers, Aria is caught in a suffocating game of cat and mouse.
Adrian on the other hand is dangerous, cold, and hiding a secret that could destroy her father's empire.
And the closer she gets to him, the more she risks losing everything, including herself.